grandparents

I find myself (as I do every Christmas) thinking back to a

special lady who always made Christmas so loving. There was

one gift I always remember and treasure is the one from Grandma.

She was old and retired. She was living on a very limited

income. Each Christmas she would set up a tree no taller than

Two feet. It was artificial and set on a little table covered with cotton

from old boxes, replicating snow.

She would take the little money she had and buy each of her

grandchildren hose for the girls and socks for the boys.

Today I remember her going to the little tree. Her hands had

become old with swollen joints and trembled just a little as

she picked up the little gift wrapped in thin paper from the year

before. There was always a thin ribbon, usually red tied so carefully.

Handing me the little gift, she would say, “It’s not much.” I

would always smile to her and say, “Grandma, you have no idea

how much I needed hose.” She would smile and sit next to the

little tree.

Today that gift keeps giving back to me. It was love.

copyrighted:  2012 CMM

I remember the dirt drive laden in gravel just

off the main asphalt country road.

named after generations of people,

who came before me;

We called family.

I wonder how many trips were

taken in and out,

and for what reasons

as we came and went to this place;

we called home.

Generations of successors grounded

into the beginnings of a southern family.

Two world wars and aromas in the kitchen

with Sunday afternoon get-togethers;

everybody knew everybody

An echo of memories sounds into the tomorrows,

old becomes new and the new often forgetting

the once was, just off the gravel road

leading back to the circled drive grounded into a name;

for generations now forgotten.

©   CMM  2008